Sarah vs Her Own Soul
by ThereIsAnother
Summary: A introspective on a CIA Agent looking for purpose, looking for self worth, looking for true love. Is there hope for the hopeless? Just a one shot of what it would be like for Sarah right before she met Chuck.


**A/N:** **I have to be honest, I'm not entirely sure why I wrote this originally. In all my stories, I don't think I've ever entertained the idea of life as a CIA agent, being more the darker, sexual side for Sarah. This may have come about when there was a lot of discussion on what exactly "Any means necessary" actually meant and did Sarah use that before she met Chuck?**

**This was written almost 5 years ago. I still can't believe I actually wrote this but maybe someone will enjoy reading it.**

**Joining the Chuck Fanfiction Facebook group has made me pull out some of my old stories and seriously re-think finishing/publishing them.**

**I still don't own Chuck.**

***** WARNING **** DO NOT READ if you have never entertained the idea of Sarah using sex as a weapon before she met Chuck. **

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**Sarah vs Her Own Soul**

The lone figure was staring in the mirror, the stifling heat from the shower, filling up the room with a heavy mist. She couldn't quite see her reflection through the fog that engulfed every inch of the bathroom mirror. _How appropriate_ the seasoned spy thought as the mirror was such a metaphoric representation of where her life was right now.

She wiped her trembling hand across the mirror, revealing a distorted version of herself. She was completely naked, but it was the eyes that held the gateway to the soul. She focused in on those distorted blue orbs and she could see the emptiness. She wasn't sure if there was ever a 'sparkle' in them, but if there was, it wasn't there now. They were dull, lifeless, and soulless, just like the rest of her.

It was Sam who she now saw in the mirror as she was right in the middle of her post mission cleansing ritual. She had already vomited the contents of her stomach, that is usually how it starts. A good half hour of gut wrenching, body convulsing, violent vomiting. She doesn't even have to force herself now, the vial that enters her body, whether it be through the marks saliva or other unsavory bodily fluids, quickly leaves through the orifice it entered through. It was just one of Sam's ways of purging the filth from her body. It was the first step in what usually took two to three hours of self-sacrifice, bodily self-mutilation; some would say it's borderline insanity. Sam paused thinking about this, oh hell, there was no border, she had crossed that years ago. But no matter what name was put to this strange ritual, when the mission was over, the cleansing began.

After the purging of the stomach, it was time to take care of her oral hygiene. This part of the cleansing usually also took close to another 30 minutes, especially after the last mark. She had practically scrubbed her mouth raw, a whole tube of toothpaste and bottle of mouthwash already consumed.

Sam was recalling the recent mission as a lone tear began to fall from her eyes. This too was part of the process. To deny or act like nothing was wrong would mean she would have to admit what she was, or better, what others thought she was. She could never let the emotional side out while on missions, that part was also reserved for the cleansing process. No one could ever see her show a sign of emotion, no one deserved such an intimate thing.

Physically, she had long ago stopped feeling. Her heart had turned cold the moment she walked out on her mother and ran away with her dad. The only emotion that ever consumed her was regret, hatred, disgust, self-horror, the usual for the scum of the earth. Nothing touched her in the emotional sense while on missions, she never allowed anything to get through to her. Her body was strictly a weapon used for the greater good and her heart and soul had long ago given up the fight. At least this line of thinking was part of the pre-mission preparation.

Her body was the easiest to give up feeling with. Ever since her first days of recruitment, and thus the first courses in seduction training, her body was given up to the agency. She was a virgin going in the academy and she still considered herself a virgin now. Sure physically she wasn't, but that didn't matter to her. She had long ago made the physical separation of what being a virgin meant. It meant something so much deeper to her, a connection on the level of the soul. Her body was just a vessel, it was her heart and soul that would ultimately determine when someone took her virginity. Not some useless male appendage being shoved into her. Of course, she had long ago given up any hope for that.

The government didn't give a rats ass about her personal feelings, but they did care about results and she was the best at what she did. It was amazing how just the slightest moan here, the simplest of words there, and the mark was like putty in her hands. She might as well of had an implanted voice playback system hidden in her hair. Half the time she didn't even know she was saying or acting out and then it was over. Not that it was a game to her, not even deep down a prideful thing that she was trying to improve on her 'time it took to retrieve information'. She just always approached it like what was the quickest way to achieve the objective and get on with the cleansing process.

It wasn't even about what fellow agents called, 'sex'. The proverbial 'Any means necessary' is the phrase she prays for because that means it's a quick jaunt to the local supply store for a bottle of Ammonia and her own stash of hypodermic needles. Oh sex is a powerful tool alright, but burning someone from the inside out is pretty persuasive too. Actually, it is what she prefers, but of course, the agency has rules.

Those damn rules are what makes her 'cleansing' so necessary. It is the dreaded 'high value target', 'government asset' those assignments are when she knows her soulless body is needed.

At first it was the most disgusting thing she'd ever done. She was actually diagnosed early on with mild cases of Gynophobia and Automysophobia, the fear of sex and being dirty. Not exactly what you want as a female agent in the CIA. Fortunate for the government, months of therapy and some extremely controversy treatment plans, Sam shuddered thinking of what they did to her to break her. Anyway, she was able to deal with her sickness and if anything, it helped her be the best at what she did.

Where others, okay everyone except maybe Carina, thought she was just another CIA whore, it actually was farthest from the truth if they would've just dug deeper. It was her defense mechanisms that drove her to be able to use her body and thus her god given gifts to quickly and efficiently control the Mark and in return, gather the necessary Intel when the op called for it.

She nearly vomited again as she gripped the side of the sink so tightly that she thought for sure it would break. Great, she thought. The ritual would have to start over once again if she was to lose her insides yet one more time.

She had thought she'd already switched 'modes' from ruthless agent, to real girl, but the thought of what she just had to do, in the previous mission, would not go away. Maybe this was a good thing she thought as it helped in the cleansing. Reaffirmed to her that at least mentally, she wasn't totally void yet.

In overall mission completion, it really wasn't too bad this go around. It took her less than five minutes to extract the information. It's amazing how the simple use of her mouth and the follow through of promises to come, could be so effective when it comes to men. She always preferred orally because her mouth was no different than the needle used to inject ammonia. It was the means to an end and it also felt more to her as a disconnect from the mark. Quick, simple, no romance, minimal physical contact, and all she had to do afterward was vomit for thirty minutes straight and clean her mouth out till it bled.

It was when the 'asset' wanted to use the more traditional style of sex that really made it disgusting for her. Once again though, she knew all the right triggers to get it over with quickly. Most of the time she could convince the mark to try the position where she didn't even have to face him. Still, even though she felt nothing, it was an act that deep down, she just felt even dirtier about. She had long given up hope that there would be a man out there that it would be... special with.

She had a very small sliver of hope that it might have been her former partner, Agent Larkin. That of course was shot all to hell as he was even worse than her marks. She hated thinking about it because to think about it, meant that maybe her body could feel something. And for her body to feel something, that would mean that she was whoring herself out. That was absolutely never the case. No one else saw it that way but they could all go to hell.

If they could step inside her mind, they would realize without a doubt that sex to her was no more than a shake of the hand. It meant nothing, it made her feel nothing, it was nothing. Sure she knew it meant something to others. That's what made it such an effective tool. But it didn't change her mind. It was an act and she was the best. Luckily she had never had to endure more than ten minutes of the despicable act. Yeah she was that good. One time it had almost gone longer than that but she'd had enough. She ended up beating the shit out of the mark, leaving him teetering on unconsciousness after extracting the vital information; however she was suspended for a month after that one.

And so now, even though her mouth was the only thing that theoretically needed cleaning, she still had bought three feminine hygiene cleaning products and would soon began the next phase of her cleansing. Every inch of her body would be scrubbed clean and even her insides. She had learned the fine line of not scrubbing till bleeding, but each time it came close.

She took a deep breath as the scalding hot water was ready for her. She turned and stepped into the shower. She smiled knowing that she stepped in as Agent Walker, cold hearted spy, Wild Card enforcer. But when she would step out after a good hour of scrubbing and cleansing, she would be Sam physically again too. That would give her a good six hours to be human until the Government called again. Then it would be back to the same routine.

Sam was so tired of this. So exhausted from the mental strain that this job caused. Why did she still do it? She really didn't know. It was strange really. She wasn't a daydreamer and she definitely didn't believe in fairy tales. But something inside, something deep, deep down gave her a shimmer of hope. A hope that somewhere, somewhere out there in that cold, dark and dreary world; her tall, handsome, white night was out there. Someone that could warm the coldness of her soul just by looking at her. Yeah it was a dream and she knew it. But for the next six hours, it's all she had. Her dreams...

The room was like a tranquil piece of heaven on earth. The lights were dimmed and candles were lit as a dim soft inviting glow warmed the room. A sound machine was playing the sound of a babbling brook and the oils and scents were practically all burned out.

Sam knelt on a pillow in the middle of the room, surrounded by candles, scents, and pictures of peaceful landscapes. Her head was bowed as her golden locks hid her beautiful milky white face. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was barely audible. If one was to walk in and check her vitals, they would be hard pressed to not consider her dead. This was the transition period. This was the post physical cleansing period where the mind was what she was working on.

Where the CIA could train them so effectively on how to use their body, they also provided just as effective means to train the mind. Most just took the basic physical courses but not Sam. Just like in everything she did, she took it to the extreme, even training for a summer with a group of monks in Tibet.

It was just one of the things that helped her cleansing. Without the ability to cleanse her mind, she would've long ago gone mad. Luckily that wasn't the case... yet. She was going through her mind exercises when the soft jingle of her phone broke the tranquility of the room. Sam still didn't move as she let the phone go to her machine.

'Agent Walker, this is Graham. We have a new mission for you.

Sam said a silent prayer for the right words to come...

'This individual might be a very important asset to the government.'

Damn, time to buy more toothpaste Agent Walker now griped to herself.

'Please meet me at my office as soon as possible. And by the way Agent Walker, how do you feel about Burbank this time of year?'

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**{Buy More}**

"Piece of cake" Sarah said into the phone as she hung up, making sure to replace her own phone with the one she altered. She had been given the specs of the mission, the picture of the mark, the whole situation.

Loser, drop out, love sick nerd, yeah this would be so easy. She would have him eating out of her hand within minutes. Sure the picture was different than any of her recent marks, but pictures never told the whole story. It was the innocent ones that sometimes turn out to be the most vile. Sure the mark's eyes were hard to look away from, but she knew better than to get drawn into anything like that.

The Intersect was stolen, way to go Bryce, and she had to find out what this Bartowski kid knew. Yeah an eager date, maybe dancing, and she would have him singing like a canary. He still hadn't looked up at her as she approached. She said a silent prayer that this would go quickly.

"Vicky Vale, Vicky, Vicky Vale"

Was what she heard as she approached, how cute she thought. It was time to initiate her plan. "I hope I'm not interrupting..."

It was then the tall, lanky nerd behind the counter dropped his phone and looked into her eyes. It took everything she had to hide her true expression as she looked into those chocolate, sincere, orbs. She felt like someone shot her heart with a grenade launcher as something she never thought possible happened. She wanted to cry out as a warmth consumed her. _Those eyes_, she thought as something she never thought possible was happening. Did she dare to dream? Was this a dream? She didn't know for sure, but what she did know is that no matter what happened from this point on. Agent Sarah Walker would never be the same.


End file.
